My Old School
by Rocky-Roodles
Summary: A long time ago, Sherlock was in a school. A Beta school. Beta? For what? Good question... John unlocks a terrible batch of memories. Those memories contain a ghastly, horrible truth which Sherlock has managed to keep silent for far too many years...


**_Author's note: A little experiment I have going on here. Mostly because I was trying to depict a certain point in the anime through observation, and a friend of mine said "Shut up, Sherlock." /laughs. I hope you enjoy it~_**

**Chapter 1**

Sundays…not much use, are they? John was lazily poking around the apartment of 221b. Re-arranging a few books, gazing out of the window, re-reading the documents on his computer and sometimes just watching Sherlock in his deep trance, which was contagious, to say the least. John's mouth twitched, then slowly morphed into a smile. Simply watching Sherlock's brilliant mind at work was enough to fascinate him sometimes, despite him not having the faintest clue of what was going on in the detective's mind.

"John, you're practically drooling."

"Wh…what was that?" John blinked, snapping himself out of his own thoughts.

"Stop gawping, it affects my concentration." Sherlock huffed before changing his position in his chair. He hunched his back as he leaned forward, the skin joining his thumb to his right hand was placed under his nose while the rest of the hand covered his mouth.

John sighed and got back to his useless tasks. This time, he'd at least make an _attempt_ to clear the dusty books from the floor, by the side of the bookcase, which almost fitted nicely into its designated spot. There was a gap of a few inches where old books were tossed carelessly…or hidden. They had been there since John had moved in with Sherlock, which went back _quite _a while. John picked three books up and almost dropped them, due to the dust. He coughed and hacked while practically juggling the books until he got a good grip. He wiped the dust off the top book, it…_was_ red. No longer red. The hardback cover was a leathery material and terribly faded with age. The once-golden writing was hard to make out.

"Fa…mil…y-" John stopped. His eyes darted to Sherlock who was staring at him, almost pleadingly. He put the book back in its unloved, unwanted position.

The second book had less dust on the cover, being wedged between two others, and all.

"Beta Academy…?" John whispered as he read out loud. He glanced back at Sherlock who was once again engrossed in his thoughts and deductions. John lifted the cover open slowly. Several photos of teenagers were placed with their names printed underneath, along with an extra detail.

"Super high school level?" John pondered aloud. Sherlock's back suddenly straightened, but he made no indication he'd heard John's thoughts. John's eyes sifted through the faces and names, looking for something familiar…something he recognised…John's eye fell upon a familiar, pale face, regardless of how much younger it was here. His cheekbones were as sharp as his wits, his eyes were a brilliant array of colours and reminded John of a kaleidoscope. His dark brown hair was longer than it was now, but the curls were still packed tightly around his face. His expression looked blank and distant, when it was more likely, he was on top of the situation, observing every single detail around him.

_"Sherlock Holmes, Super high school level detective/despair." _John's stomach clenched upon reading the last word. Up until then, John had been able to predict the words before he read them. But _"despair"_ was beyond confusing to him. Sherlock didn't seem to be able feel as much emotion as anyone else, or maybe it was the "not caring" effect he arrogantly boasted from time to time. Sherlock seemed to feel mostly irritation, and only small tints of other emotions, save for extreme cases. Despair? From what John knew, Sherlock was only in despair when he didn't solve a case in less than a day. John hesitantly turned the page, an aged photo was laid on the cover. All fifteen faces he saw on the previous page were posed inside what appeared to be a school hall. Some were grinning, some were holding another student, some were hardly looking at the camera and some were grimacing. A young Sherlock stood at the edge of the photo, hands beside him, glancing at the camera as if he had just noticed it.

"Sherlock, what's-"

"School memories."

"There are fifteen of you, and you were homeschooled." John took a step towards him, an angry tone set deep into his voice.

"Not that kind of school!" Sherlock retorted, an equal amount of anger laced into his words. He got up and stormed into the kitchen.

"What…what does it mean? Despair, what does it mean by that, Sherlock?" John used a more gentle tone with him. After all, he had no idea what memories he could unlock, here. Sherlock stopped mid-motion.

"Despair…" He muttered. John wouldn't have known what he said if it wasn't for the faint movements of his lips. He exhaled softly. "Pass me a cigarette and I'll tell you."

**_Author's note: I didn't mean to cut it off here, but it made a pretty cool end. C:_**

**_Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it~_**

**_Apologies for any mistakes my broken keyboard may or may not have caused /laughs. Next part will be uploaded when written!_**


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